


indirectly you say to me the hand is not a hand for me

by XellyChan



Category: Outlast (Video Games)
Genre: a difficult marriage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-05
Updated: 2015-10-05
Packaged: 2018-04-24 22:36:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4937773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/XellyChan/pseuds/XellyChan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In each gaping, slick wound, he divines his future</p>
            </blockquote>





	indirectly you say to me the hand is not a hand for me

**Author's Note:**

> the night's dragging on

His wife was very lovely, you see. And he was very much in love with her. 

From the first light to the last, Eddie Gluskin cherishes her. His delicate little darling. 

He would never allow harm to come to her, except for when she asks for it, and oh, does she plead for it. 

"Do you love me?"

"I can't stand you."

"If I'm so repulsive to you, then you must hate me"

"No. I don't love you. I don't hate you. You've such a child's point of view.. " Waylon's gaze slides to Eddie's, holding it as if peering at a vaguely interesting stain, then swept to the rack of past brides. Unseeingly, he looks at the dark slashes along their throats, bellies, groins. In each gaping, slick wound, he divines his future. "You do repulse me.” He agrees, “but mostly I don't care."

"How heartless." Eddie murmurs, brow lowered and mouth twisted. He runs his rough palms down Waylon's flank, callouses catching on the the coarse material of the sundress he fashioned as a wedding gift. "What must I do to make you look at me?"

Waylon's expression flickers, a moue of distaste curls his lip for a second before smoothing out into placid blankness. He folds his hands over his lap, fingers turning white with force to keep from ripping Eddie's away. Willfully, he says nothing. 

Eddie is persistent, however. He hums, offtune, and rubs the side of his thumb along a seam, just enough pressure to be a threat. “What if…” he muses, “I bring you many fine gems. Garnets, especially.”

“Not rubies?”

“Nothing so common for my darling,” laughs the Groom. “The shade of red doesn’t suit you.”

Silently, eyes hooded and unseeing, Waylon agrees. Blood from a dead man is never so bright as that, coagulated and almost black and cold.

Eddie waits for a response, but the stubborn tick in Waylon’s cheek is all the answer he gets. Undaunted, he tries again, leaning forward to run his nose along the tense line of his betrothed jaw. “Then,” he brushes his scarred lips behind Waylon’s ear, dragging his new game onward. “how about eternity? A promise.”

“In hell, you mean,” with neither inflection or expression, Waylon says, “Haven’t you already given me that.”

“So cruel you are, dear heart.” Eddie smiles indulgently, voice clipped. “Come now. Can’t you see I’d give you the world?”

“Your world. For a time.” Waylon tosses back. His mouth tips upwards, a dark slash along his face, vacant as his own voice. “Then I’ll end it.”

“Pity,” says Eddie. His hands come up to his delicate little darling’s throat.

He cherishes her so, you see, from the first light, to the last as it leaves her eyes.


End file.
